


A Safe Place

by Luniana



Series: Imagine ClintCoulson Prompts [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/F, F/M, Gun Violence, ImagineClintCoulson Tumblr Prompt, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 20:04:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10368378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luniana/pseuds/Luniana
Summary: anonymous asked: The one is a werewolf, and has not yet disclosed this teeny tiny detail despite of them having dated a while already. Tell how the other one finds out.Holy cow did this one get away from me.  The prompt was just too good and the idea just wouldn't stop.  Please enjoy.We are always accepting new prompts at ourtumblraccount, so feel free to drop by with a little headcanon or ask.





	

**anonymous asked:**

**The one is a werewolf, and has not yet disclosed this teeny tiny detail despite of them having dated a while already. Tell how the other one finds out.**

When Dr. Gonzalez offered his practice to Phil upon his retirement, Phil wasn’t sure what to say.  He’d been working here and there around the city, never really settling down anywhere, to any one clinic.  He tended to go where he was needed, get the job done, and help everyone he came across as best he could, but he never really felt welcome anywhere.  

Dr. Gonzalez ran a small practice in a bedroom community just east of the city.  The more Phil thought about it - the normal hours, buying a small acreage, the short commute into town if he needed anything, the more appealing the idea became.  Finally, he asked Dr. Gonzalez if he could come out and take a look around.  His old mentor was more than happy to have him drop by for half a day.  

The clinic was in a two-story strip-mall-like building between a delicatessen and a nail salon in the middle of the little town.  Calling it a strip mall really didn’t do it justice, as the developer had set up the buildings to look like a classic ‘main street in a little town out of a Christmas card’ or something similar with fake white shutters and elaborate scrollwork.  

Stepping inside, he was cheerfully greeted by Nurse Simmons, a bubbly young brunette with an English accent. She asked him to take a seat in the tiny yet comfortable waiting room while she let Dr. Gonzalez know he’d arrived. What he hadn’t expected was for Melinda May, one of his favourite nurses from his days in the downtown emergency room to appear shortly afterwards to lead him back.  

He sat in on Dr. Gonzalez’s afternoon appointments, and found himself pleased to be introduced to the patients as the doctor considering taking over. Everyone was friendly, if a bit reserved to meet the stranger, but everyone immediately invited him to the first Farmer’s Market of the year opening in a few short weeks. From various people, he heard about the pie baking competition, the amazing booths of homemade goods and food.  The crowning glory seemed to be the archery demonstration.  Apparently somewhere between town and the city limits, there was an archery range, and said range was owned and run by a local. The event was not to be missed.  

Melinda was more than happy to join him at the local pub for a quick beer once the clinic had closed for the night and Dr. Gonzalez headed off home to his own acreage.  

“Thoughts?” May asked as she set down a glass in front of him and took her seat.

“I am very sorely tempted.” He admitted before taking a long swallow. “I must admit I was surprised to see you out here. Back in Emerg, you could martial whole armies with a look. Isn’t small town life like this boring for you?”

She gave him a raised eyebrow in response. “I needed a change, wanted to focus on other things.”  

“What other things?” he smiled at her somewhat wistful tone.

May clinked their glasses together. “Take over the practice and find out?”

*

On the day of the annual Farmer’s Market, Phil had officially been the town physician for a week. He spent the first few hours standing behind a rented table in front of the office introducing himself and handing out adorable gingerbread men cookies iced to look like little doctors and nurses, a weekend project for Nurse Simmons and her pharmacist-boyfriend, Fitz.    

Melinda appeared behind the table and waved Phil away, taking the afternoon shift and allowing him to take a look at the remaining festivities.  He didn’t make it very far as the next door delicatessen had a huge selection of pie slices for sale. Getting in line, he peeked over the shoulders of the few people in front of him, trying to decide which slice to try.  When it was his turn, he took one last quick glance at the selection.  “I’ll take that last piece of flapper pie.”

To his immense surprise, someone behind him actually whimpered. He looked over his shoulder and met the rainbow-and-gold-flecked puppy eyes of a very handsome stranger. Said stranger’s lips quirked as Phil gave him a quick onceover. Tanned arms like a Greek god coming out of a nondescript navy t-shirt, jeans that were just short of being scandalously tight and a pair of well-worn cowboy boots. Phil smirked, the stranger added a lip wiggle into the pout, and Phil turned back to the proprietress with cash in hand. “And two forks?”  

“Clint, you’re shameless.” The woman shook a finger at the stranger as she handed Phil his pie on a paper plate with two plastic forks.

“Anything for the last piece of flapper pie,” _Clint_ explained as he met Phil’s gaze again, accepted his fork and nodded for Phil to take the first bite. “Clint Barton.” 

Phil Coulson.” Phil replied.  Tasting the pie made Clint’s antics more understandable, seeing as Phil had to stop himself from moaning at the bright sweet taste.  

“Ah, Doctor Coulson?” Clint popped a bite of pie into his mouth at Phil’s nod. He gestured for the two of them to continue the walk towards the baseball field where most of the festivities were being held. “Nice to meet you.”

“You live in town?”

“Acreage off to the West.”

“Really? That’s roughly where I’m looking to find something myself. Any leads you could give me?”

Clint was a fount of information as they finished off the pie slice and meandered to where several teenagers were practicing archery in a section of the field cordoned off by yellow and black caution tape that was starting to gather a crowd.  

“I’m looking forward to this.” Phil admitted as they slotted themselves in against the safety tape.  “All anyone could talk about was the amazing archery demonstration every year.”

“Yeah, it’s something, alright.” Clint nodded, scanning the crowd a bit. “Listen, I’ve gotta run for a bit, but if you hang out after the show, I’d love to get a beer or a coffee or something.”  Clint’s smile was almost bashful as he met Phil’s eyes.

“I’d like that.” Phil nodded.

“It’s a date.” Clint winked, stepped over the safety tape and strolled casually towards the archery students as the crowd began to cheer. Someone in the crowd started to chant ‘Hawkeye!’ and Phil watched in amusement as Clint encouraged it, pumping the crowd up until he finally hopped up onto a small platform.  

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Clint yelled once he’d waved down the noise of the crowd. His voice carried easily, and it was obvious that he was confident in holding the crowd’s attention. “My name is Clint Barton and I am the owner of the East Horizon’s Archery Range. I would like to introduce you to my assistant, Kate Bishop!” A young woman with long dark hair and 80’s style sunglasses took a swipe at Clint with the bow in her hand as she jumped onto the stage eliciting a titter from the crowd. “I’m kidding!” Clint smirked and accepted the bow Kate had swiped at him with. “This is Kate, my partner and second in command. These young people…” A collection of kids ranging from elementary school on up to potentially college strode up from either side of the stage, bows in hand. “…are my students. And today, we’re going to show you what can be done with a stick and a piece of string!” Clint hefted his bow and the kids in front of him leapt into action, taking positions all along the front of the range and the demonstration began.  

Phil would guess that about 80% of the demonstration was Clint and Kate’s students. The less experienced students showed what a typical drill or class looked like, while those with more experience demonstrated various techniques, the differences between different styles of bows and some impressive competitions regarding how close they could get to hitting the target, or hitting as close as possible to the arrow before them. The highlight, however, was Clint and Kate. While the kids were setting up new targets or collecting arrows, the two would banter and challenge each other to ever more seemingly impossible stunts and trick shots. Finally the pair brought up their students and had everyone give a bow while the crowd applauded. With a final flourish, Kate and Clint each sent up one last arrow each and when the two arrows collided a puff of rainbow sparkles and confetti rained down on all their students and themselves.  

Phil remained next to the safety tape, nodding and smiling to the people who stopped to say hello, while Clint spoke to students and parents and gradually made his way back.  

“So, what did you think?” Clint asked the question nonchalantly enough, but Phil decided he heard the faintest trace of insecurity there.

“It was amazing.” He admitted, loving the huge smile that broke across Clint’s face. “I’ve never seen anything like it. You and Kate are very very talented.”  

Clint actually blushed. “Thank you, Phil. Now, about that beer?”

*

Clint was seated at the same table that they’d occupied on their first date. The blond half stood up and waved as Phil made his way over. Phil was still getting used to having most of his evenings off, but he was enjoying it. Especially when he now knew that Clint’s archery range was always closed on Mondays to give the instructors a free evening. Reaching the table, Clint did stand up this time, opening his arms and Phil found himself returning the unexpected embrace with no hesitation. Clint smelled like he’d recently had a shower, and Phil was relieved to find the other man was not an awkward hugger, melting into the warm embrace eagerly.  

A frown crossed Phil’s features, however and he pulled away to look sternly into Clint’s eyes.  “Are you running a fever?” He went straight into doctor mode, testing Clint’s temperature, searching his eyes for sickness and fatigue.  

Clint’s worried expression at Phil’s pulling away melted into a somewhat pleased grin. “No, no Phil, I’m fine, I promise.” He gently removed Phil’s hand from his forehead. “I’ve always run unusually hot. I’m fine.”  

Clint laughed at Phil’s obviously unconvinced expression and pushed the older man towards his stool at the high table. “I swear!” He laughed and waved for one of the waitresses to drop by their table, still obviously pleased at Phil’s concern.  

*

Clint and Phil walked down the cobblestone street, chatting and obviously at ease with each other. They’d graduated from beer and coffee dates to fancy dinner dates in the large city nearby. The street was busy with restaurants and bars on a Friday night, but they weren’t bothered. Dinner had been delicious and Clint was currently leading the way to one of his favourite tap houses which boasted a huge international beer selection when his phone began to ring. Phil blinked as he recognized the chorus of the song “Werewolves of London” in the tiny beeps.  

Clint’s carefree expression became one of mild concern as he quickly answered. “Clint here.” His concerned expression only grew more dour and unhappy as the deep voice on the other end spoke. “Yeah.” He nodded sharply. “Yeah, I’ll be right there, I’m in the city.” He nodded one last time and hung up. “Shit, Phil, I gotta run.”  

“Family emergency?” Phil asked, concerned.

“Yeah, something like that. You’ll be OK getting home?” He touched Phil’s arm in concern, obviously raring to take off.

“Yeah, of course, you go. We’ll talk again soon.”

“I’m sorry.” Clint said one last time before turning and dashing back towards where he must have parked.  

Phil watched his lithe form run off, waiting for him to disappear before turning himself and returning to his car for the boring ride home.

*

Phil was finally settled into his faux-farmhouse style bungalow on the outer edge of town, so he’d invited Clint over for dinner. The sun was still out as they sat next to each other at his too-large dining room table talking and flirting. Phil glanced up out his window and his face lit up. “Hey, want to see one of my favourite parts of living out here?” He grinned playfully at Clint who nodded.

Phil got up and went over into his fridge, digging out a huge bag of carrots. Waving for Clint to follow he headed out the backdoor and down into his spacious backyard.

Just beyond the fenceline to Phil’s new property three large horses grazed. They were all mares, but the huge bay was obviously the leader, often bullying the other two out of the way for the best pieces of carrots. Their ears perked as Phil approached and the bay was eager to meet him at the fence. The black mare was the shyest and often waited a while, so Phil didn’t mind when she didn’t approach right away. The third mare had a coat like a coffee with too much cream in it and long strip of white down the middle of her face. She was wary of the bay, but loved carrots too much to stay away.  Phil gave them all half a carrot before turning to offer a carrot to Clint.

To his surprise, Clint was still standing on the edge of the deck, just watching, his expression pleased. “Clint?  C’mon, they’re pretty friendly.” Phil encouraged, wondering briefly if Clint was afraid of horses.

“No, it’s OK.” Clint called back. “Horses don’t like me. Never have. If I get too close they’ll just take off. I don’t want to ruin your fun.”

“They don’t like you?” Phil frowned.  

“Nope, never have.” Clint shrugged.  

The big bay gave Phil a little push with her nose, reminding him of her presence and earning herself a nose rub. When Phil turned back again, Clint was making his way slowly towards them, watching the horses carefully. Phil frowned himself, wondering if he’d unknowingly pressuring the other man when it was obvious the horses made him uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to say something when the bay lifted her head violently and snorted. Clint stopped immediately as the black and coffee mares turned and galloped away at the bay’s obvious discomfort. Clint and the bay stared hard at each other, the mare flaring her nostrils, stomping her feet.  

“Phil.” Clint’s voice was low and calm. “I’d feel a lot better if you stepped away from her and we both headed back in.” His gaze never left the upset horse.

Phil just nodded, slowly dropping the hand that had once been petting the horse. He took a calm, careful step backwards and moved carefully to Clint’s side. Clint’s tension eased a bit once Phil was beside him and the two of them headed back up to the deck.  

“Sorry Phil.” Clint said when Phil moved to open the backdoor and wave him in. “Horses have just always hated me.”

“It’s alright.” Phil put a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

Clint smiled ruefully and headed inside. Phil took one last look at the bay mare that tossed her mane and trotted away after her field-mates.  

*

Phil was turning the lock on the clinic door when he heard Clint’s truck pull up into the parking lot behind him. He turned and waved as he stepped down towards the truck, smiling as Clint hopped out for their now customary hug and kiss. He was enveloped in Clint’s delicious warmth when he felt the other man stiffen. Clint pulled away and started looking Phil up and down worriedly. “Phil, are you OK?  You smell like blood.”

Phil blinked. He’d made sure he thoroughly showered. “Actually, someone decided it would be a good idea to come see me about their completely severed thumb this afternoon, instead of heading straight for the hospital.” He watched the worry drain from Clint’s eyes. “A wood cutting accident. I’m sorry, I took a long shower.”

“Hey, no worries.” Clint gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “Let’s go for dinner, yeah?”

“Sure.” Phil went around to the passenger side and set his briefcase in the backseat.  

“If I can guess in the first three tries who it was, can I spend the night?” Clint grinned cheekily.

“You can spend the night anyways,” Phil replied with a grin of his own. “But I’ll make breakfast if you guess in five.”

“Done.” Clint threw the truck into reverse and they headed off for Phil’s house.

*

Phil stood on his back porch nursing a beer. The nearly full moon was shining down across the horse field behind his house. He glanced up as the bay mare whinnied and the three of them took off towards the barn. He thought he saw a shadow loping through the taller grass when he the unmistakeable bang of a rifle went off. Phil nearly dropped his beer as he heard pained yelping.

“That’s right!” he heard his neighbour yell as the man jumped over his paddock fence after the canine as it stumbled off into the dark patch of forest on the edge of his land beyond the field.  “Go on off and die, fucking coyote!”

“Jesus Christ Rumlow!” Phil shouted. “A fucking coyote’s not going to hurt your horses!”  

His neighbour flipped him the bird. “Fucking spooking my horses is enough.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Was it at least a clean shot?”

“Fuck if I care!” Rumlow spat on the ground. “Been coming around these past few months and skulking around your part of the fence. You should thank me Doc, that coyote had his eye on you.”  

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Phil set his beer down and hurried into the house. When he was younger he used to go shooting with some of the other medical interns, all of them claiming they wanted to learn more about the weapons that caused so much of the damage they were used to seeing in the emergency room. Phil had enjoyed the sport, however, and had decided to purchase glock for target shooting when he needed to blow off some steam. Unlocking the case he loaded his gun and headed back outside.

Since he’d been watching where the coyote had been before it spooked Rumlow’s horses it was easy enough to follow its trail. Rumlow had obviously not made a clean shot, judging by the trail of blood and how deep into the spit of forest the thing had gotten before finally collapsing. He heard its whimpering as he approached.  

“You are not a coyote.” He whispered. The wolf was still trying to get away, but one of its back legs dangled uselessly, blood oozing from its flank as it tried to stand. It was a gorgeous creature and when he whispered it turned its head to look at him, a low whine coming from its throat as it renewed its attempt to stand.  

Phil moved carefully around to face the wolf so he could get a clean shot, put it out of its misery.  He tried to sound soothing, watching as the wolf waved one front paw at him, as if begging him to stop. “It’s OK. It’s ok. I’ll make the pain stop.”

The wolf barked, shaking its head, waving that one foot at him until it started to change. Phil watched, mesmerized and horrified as its fur and nose began to shrink into its body. The paw it waved began to lengthen, toes elongating into fingers. Finally the wolf was gone, and in its place lay Clint, his boyfriend, blood oozing from a hole in his hip, his one hand held up to stop him. “Please don’t shoot me Phil.”

Clint’s plaintive tone finally snapped Phil awake. In one fluid motion, he emptied his gun of bullets and stuffed the gun into his waistband so he could drop to his knees next to Clint. He pulled off his shirt and pressed it into the wound, hearing Clint hiss. “I don’t have my cellphone with me.” He explained as he grabbed Clint’s hand and pressed it onto the wad of fabric. “Hold this here, hold it hard, I’ll run back and call an ambulance.”

“No, Phil.” Clint grabbed his wrist before he could stand. “I heal fast, I just need somewhere safe to do it.” Even through his obvious pained expression Phil could see sadness in his eyes.  “My phone’s in my pocket. You can call someone, they’ll come…”

Phil frowned. “You’re sure?  You just need somewhere safe?”

Clint nodded quickly, suddenly unable to look Phil in the eye. “Someone else can come, it’s OK.”

“Is my house not safe?” Phil asked, putting a hand on Clint’s cheek, drawing his gaze back up to him.

Clint searched his face in the moonlight. “Your house is safe.”  

“Then let’s get you safe.”  

At Clint’s shaky nod, Phil took Clint’s hand and pressed it to his blood-soaked t-shirt. “Try to keep pressure on it.” Moving to Clint’s other side, he wrapped Clint’s free arm around his neck and hoisted them both up to their feet. Clint made a pained sound but held on and together, they moved back towards Phil’s house.  

They emerged from the woods and Phil glanced at Rumlow’s house, happy to see the back porch light was off, the man apparently having gone inside. They moved to the fence where Phil leaned Clint against the wood and climbed over first before helping Clint over. Finally, they made it the last painful steps up onto Phil’s back deck and inside.

He left Clint leaning against the wall in the mud room while he ran to collect his first-aid kit and throw some towels down on his couch. Returning to Clint, he found the man with his head hanging low, trying to keep the shirt pressed against his wound, but obviously exhausted.  “Clint.” He stepped forward, putting one hand on Clint’s shoulder and using the other to bring his face up and look into his eyes. “Do you want me to call someone? Would you feel more comfortable?”  

Clint searched his face again before slumping forward a bit, resting his head on Phil’s shoulder. “Call Melinda.” He almost whispered. “She can help get the buckshot out of me before everything heals over.”  

Phil could only blink in surprise, having no idea that Clint knew Melinda, or that somehow Melinda knew Clint…and what he was. He nodded quickly though. “Come, let’s get you lying down.”

Once Clint was laying on his towel-covered couch, Phil grabbed his cellphone and quickly brought up Melinda’s number.  

Thankfully it only rang twice before she picked up. “Melinda here.”

“Melinda, it’s Phil. Clint’s been hurt. I need you over at my place, bring your kit.”

Melinda didn’t hesitate. “We’ll be right there.”

Tossing his cell phone down on the coffee table, Phil turned on all the lights he could in the living room and set about carefully cutting Clint’s jeans away from the wound.  

He was carefully extracting rifle shot from Clint’s side when his front door burst open. Melinda and a red head Phil had seen around town but not actually met didn’t even bother taking off their shoes as they ran into the living room. Melinda dropped her kit and Phil filled them both in on the situation. The red head dropped to one knee at Clint’s head and began whispering to him in what sounded like Russian. Phil would have been less concerned if it didn’t sound like she was actually scolding him.  

Between the two of them, with the red head holding Clint still for the worst of it, Melinda and Phil were able to get the worst of the wounds cleaned and closed. Phil couldn’t help but marvel as the wounds did indeed appear to be healing faster than he’d ever seen. They were stitching up the last one when Melinda spoke up.  

“He had an elaborate plan in place to tell you.” She explained. Phil looked up at Clint who quickly looked away and covered his eyes with one hand. “You’ll gather this was not part of the plan.”

Phil snorted. “And this is?” He met the red head’s steady gaze.

“Natasha. She runs the business side of Clint’s range, the books and things. She’s the pack enforcer, and my mate.” Melinda met Phil’s curious expression with a bland one of her own, as if daring him to contradict her.  

“Nice to meet you.” Phil decided was the diplomatic answer to that particular information dump.

“Likewise, Doctor Coulson.” The corner of Natasha’s lip quirked in amusement.  

Melinda and Phil sat back for a moment once the last stitch had been tied, taking a breath they hadn’t given themselves time to take.  

“He’ll live.” Melinda declared, before gathering her tools and instruments and getting to her feet. “Though the embarrassment might kill him.”

Clint was still hiding his face.  

As Phil got to his feet to follow the two women, he touched Clint’s shoulder, trying to be encouraging.  

Natasha paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked at Phil over her shoulder. “This is the happiest he’s been in a long time.” She said quietly, meeting Phil’s gaze. “We ask that you give this…us…him a chance.”

Phil nodded slowly. “I would ask the same courtesy.”

Natasha smirked at him again and headed out. Melinda nodded approvingly and followed. Phil shut the door behind them and took another long deep breath before returning to the living room. Clint lay where he’d been left, a mess of dried blood and spent towels. Phil knelt next to his head and carefully pulled his hand away from his face. “’m sorry Phil.” Clint whispered, sounding groggy and sleep deprived.

“It’s alright.” Phil found himself whispering. “You can tell me about it in the morning.” He stroked Clint’s cheek. “Sleep for now. Get your strength back.”

Phil got to his feet and tried to clean everything up as best he could without disturbing Clint. Once he was sure he’d gotten the worst of it cleaned or thrown away, he headed down the hall to grab a comforter for Clint. The other man…werewolf?...was fast asleep when he returned, some of his wounds already looking almost fully healed where Phil had cut his jeans away. Still trying not to wake him Phil lay the comforter over him and headed off to his own bed.  

As he lay down he wondered exactly what he would wake up to the next morning…

*

Clint woke, still lying on his side on a pile of towels in Phil’s living room. He groaned at the scent of dry blood all around him, not to mention the pain of his still-healing hip, before opening his eyes. The blinds were closed on the living room windows, though the tell-tale glow of sunlight peeked around the edges to light the room. Set on the floor just within reach was what looked like a pair of jogging pants and a t-shirt, carefully folded. Over the scent of dried blood, however, there came a better, unexpected scent. Steak.  

“You up?” he heard Phil ask from somewhere over his shoulder. “I left a towel in the spare bathroom. Do you need a hand getting up?”

“I must be dead.” Clint replied, rolling carefully onto his back so he could look over his shoulder at Phil in the kitchen. “I revealed my supernatural nature to my amazing boyfriend in the worst possible fucking way, and instead of running screaming for the hills or having me arrested, committed or calling a priest, he’s making me steak…”

Phil’s expression was bland amusement. “Steak and eggs actually. And there’s hash browns, if I can swing it. Cheese or no cheese?”

“I will never say no to cheese.” He watched Phil nod and return to the stove before rolling back onto his side and carefully pulling himself off the sticky-dry towels he’d laid on all night. He wasn’t 100%, but as he got carefully to his feet he knew Phil and Melinda had done a good job of patching him up. Grabbing the pile of clothes Phil had left him, he limped off to the bathroom for a well-needed shower.  

Phil was setting heaping plates of food on the table when Clint limped back into the kitchen wearing Phil’s gym clothes. The older man smiled at him in a welcoming way, gesturing for Clint to sit where he usually did when he came over for dinner. To Phil’s credit, he allowed Clint to eat in silence for a long moment before finally speaking up.  “Alright, so start at the beginning for me.” Clint looked up. “How does one become a werewolf?”    

“We’re born with the gene, passed on by our parents, sometimes grandparents.” Clint explained between bites. “And it can’t be passed through a bite, or whatever the movies are saying nowadays.”

Phil smiled. “Ah good, considering our most recent escapades, I admit I was a touch worried.”

Clint blushed slightly at the fond memory, ducking his head a bit at Phil’s casual discussion of their last round of sex. He had gotten a bit carried away with a love bite and Phil had lamented that it was too hot out for turtleneck sweaters.  

“They said you’d been meaning to tell me.” Phil’s voice got quiet. “How did you…how did you know that it would be ok? That I’d be OK, with all of it…?”

Clint blushed, looking down at his mostly-empty plate. “I guess I thought…that if you could love me half as much as I love you…you could love all of me…?”

Phil cupped Clint’s cheek and Clint leaned into the touch, meeting Phil’s eyes.  Phil smiled gently. “I love you, Clint.”

Ignoring the pain from his almost-healed wounds, Clint leaned over and pulled Phil into a deep and desperately happy kiss.  

 


End file.
